


Knees

by coffee_deer



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_deer/pseuds/coffee_deer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a cosy little thing about Jamie who stubbornly wears his kilt even in the harshest weather, and the Doctor who is totally fed up with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knees

‘Jamie, get dressed quicker, you and Victoria… I mean warmer. It’s winter out there.’

‘Yes, Doctor, we’ve noticed,’ sarcasm of young McCrimmon was muffled by rustles and swishes and layers of clothes – you could find anything you need in the TARDIS wardrobe, but only after a couple of centuries practice. Well, you could have. If only the old girl didn’t make rearrangements every now and then – and afterwards even the Doctor usually found himself lost in the jungle, trying to curse his way through motley garments of different eras.

All that knowledge didn’t prevent the Doctor, though, from shifting from one foot to the other and sweating disapprovingly in a huge fur coat which could easily serve as a shelter for a small decent family in a harsh cold night. The Doctor couldn’t stand waiting when something new and unexplored was nearly knocking at the door, begging to be let in. The Doctor simply couldn’t stand waiting.

So, when his sluggish companions finally deigned to choose what to wear, he had already played solitaire twice and actually beat himself in it.

‘Doctor, we got lost!’ Victoria’s clear voice whimsically combined tints of apology and Victorian reproach.

Still not looking up from his cards, the Doctor prepared an ironic comment about drawing them a map next time, but, as he raised his gaze, the comment stuck – no, rather, it broke down, crumbled, dissolved to the point when it could fly out of his mouth with a deep sigh, turned into a blank:

‘Oh, God… Not again.’

Bare knees of his companion stared right at him. Shameless and uncovered. On the scanner, that showed the world outside the TARDIS, snow was rising and falling in flakes…

 

‘Doctor!’ his sleeve was pulled with persistence. ‘Doctor, let’s go back to the TARDIS already! Look, my knees turned blue!’

The Doctor, being distracted from contemplation on the beauty of nature and friendly faces of the locals that had come to say goodbye, obediently looked at the knee that was put almost under his nose. Jamie was jumping on one leg and, despite his physical exercises, did seem to be quite frozen. However, the Doctor’s compassion was strangled in germ by an amplifying déjà vu.

He looked sternly at the chattering boy.

‘Jamie. Next time I won’t say “winter”. I’ll just say “blue knees” and you'll figure out the rest. And now let me bid farewell to these nice people, will you kindly?’

That it was not kind at all in Jamie’s opinion, the Doctor understood right away, just by looking at his face – instantly sullen, it reflected hurt as clearly as footprints on the morning snow.

Nevertheless, the Doctor hurried away and not towards the TARDIS, but to shake hands and share a smile with the Head of the village who had helped them greatly in the riddance of nasty alien rodent-parasites. Slowly but steadily freezing companions somehow weren’t so eager to join him.

 

It was unusually warm in the TARDIS that leisurely carried them towards another unexplored something – as if someone had turned on the heating. The Doctor had nothing to do with that, so it was up to guessing whether the old girl was being thoughtful and caring or she was simply trying to warm herself up too, from the cold that was extraordinary even for an experienced traveller in space and time.

His companions had been defrosting bit by bit. Victoria sat wrapped up in a blanket up to her nose, Jamie – beside her, sniffing into a big cup of hot tea, and, as usual, he didn’t seem to be hurt or offended any longer. Easily pacified, rebuke long forgotten, he sipped his tea and threw glances at the Doctor who had buried himself in an old casket almost up to his waist. From time to time some item flew out of the casket, obviously considered to be useless at that one and particular moment, but the Doctor himself remained hidden. He was looking for something special – and was highly determined to find it at any cost.

‘Voilà!’ he announced happily as his quest resulted in success, the floor around him littered with piles of things, varying in the mind of an ordinary human (that is, not the Doctor) from “why would anyone need this junk?” to “what on earth is that anyway?”.

With some interest, Victoria and Jamie raised their eyes; the Doctor, smiling triumphantly, clutched… a jar. A perfectly ordinary jar like the ones you keep in a basement as supplies for the winter. Something yellowed cosily inside.

‘What is it, Doctor?’ asked Jamie. The fact that his voice sounded rather nasal only reassured the Doctor in the necessity of his measures. He rose up from his knees and, carefully avoiding all the obstacles, approached the victims of the weather and – in one case out of two – Scottish stubbornness.

‘This is, Jamie, the honey-berry jam from the planet Tarkas, from one of its distant provinces. They gave it to me as a gift, yes. It is extremely good for the cold, especially for human beings, so you won’t find a better remedy for you and Victoria!’

Clearly not sharing his enthusiasm, Jamie scrutinised the jar sceptically, run his finger along its side. A visible trail of dust appeared on the finger – and on the jar’s side too, a clean one, from the touch.

‘Are you sure, Doctor? How long has it been in there? For two hundred years?’

‘Oh, Jamie, it’s not important!’ the Doctor just waved it off. ‘Only eighty, if you want to know, and won’t go bad for another twenty. And don’t argue with me!’ he pointed a finger at the boy. Jamie looked at the finger, then at the Doctor, sighed with a familiar expression on his face, namely, “Alright, as you wish, you’re the smart one,” – but suddenly the Doctor smiled again, only much warmer this time, and added: ‘It is also very delicious. You will love it.’


End file.
